


Rain in a Drought

by houseofblack



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: First Kiss, M/M, Post Season 4, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-26
Updated: 2017-01-26
Packaged: 2018-09-20 02:45:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,152
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9471983
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/houseofblack/pseuds/houseofblack
Summary: While cleaning up after Rosie's first birthday party, John and Sherlock share their first kiss.





	

“That was fast,” Sherlock noted as John entered the room. 

“She’s been settling a lot faster lately,” John replied, picking up a cup and party streamers, shoving them into a bin bag. “I think she’s getting used to Mary being gone.” Sherlock hmm’d in response. “I think she liked her party.” Sherlock nodded.

One year. How had the time gone. Sherlock understood time and that people aged and grew, but he had never truly experienced the speed of time before. Rosie had grown so much, and been through more than was necessary for a lifetime. They carried on clearing away the party debris, shoving away party hats and paper plates. Silence was nice. Silence was easy. Too much was left unsaid in their polite conversation and nervous smiles. 

“Sherlock?” He looked up. John was stood near the kitchen.

“Yes, John?”

“You do know I love you, right?”

“Of course, John. I love you too.”

“No,” John replied, agitated. “I really do love you. I don’t say it enough to anyone. Rosie is one. She’s been here for an entire year. If that doesn’t show you how quick life is I don’t know what does. I just felt like you ought to know.”

Sherlock was taken aback. He never expected this from John. He wondered, hoped, that he might feel even an inkling of how Sherlock felt back, but an open admission of his feelings was something Sherlock thought he would never see from John. Sherlock took the bag he was holding and placed it in the kitchen. John watched him carefully, waiting to see how he would react, if he would react at all. 

“I feel like I need to confess something, John.” Sherlock kept his head low. He was nervous; that was new. “A few years ago I told you I considered myself married to my work- no, please let me finish.” He held up a hand as John went to interrupt. “Please, let me say this. I told you I considered myself married to my work and that was true. Until I got to know you. I don’t know why John but you have made me feel things I never thought capable. You have made me a better man, you have made me a good man. I love you John, I am in love with you. I don’t know if that’s even something I’m capable of feeling but when I’m with you, anything could be possible. I know you don’t feel the same way back and I do not expect anything back. But you are right, life is fleeting, and I love you, and I do not want to regret every day of my life wishing I had told you sooner.”

Sherlock let out a sigh, the weight lifted bringing a brand new burden. John took a step forwards. Sherlock dared not move. He couldn’t bring himself to look at John’s face. Then the unexpected happened. 

“I know.” John took Sherlock’s hand. Sherlock looked into his eyes, his heart racing. He took a breath in, afraid that if he moved even the slightest the moment would be over, gone forever, as though John were some wild animal he didn’t want to spook.

Their faces were close now, so close Sherlock could feel John’s breath on his skin. Short breaths, irregular. He was nervous. The moment before a kiss is like waiting for rain in a drought. You know it’s coming, but the moments before it does feels like eternity. The silence is deafening, the pressure making you feel like your head will implode. You take a leap of faith, your lips meet, the sky breaks open and rain pours.

John took a step forwards and closed the gap. Their lips pressed against each other, soft but assured. The only sound was the beating of two hearts, loud and clear, fast, erratic, excited and terrified. They both stood perfectly still, as though hoping to stay in that moment for as long as possible. John’s lips were dryer than Sherlock would have anticipated, he could feel where cracks had started to form as a result of dehydration. They both breathed in at the same time, taking in the other, sweet and supple. They were perfectly in sync as they readjusted their position, moving to get a better angle, a better grip. Sherlock had enveloped John’s bottom lip, John’s nose was tilted up a lot further that Sherlock had expected, his head tilted back so that he could reach. Sherlock felt a hand touch his jaw, tentatively at first, but then it was in his hair, soft, caressing every curl. Sherlock was fixed in place, his arms still by his side. He had dreamed of this moment, quite literally, but the feeling that it evoked was nothing compared to what he could ever have imagined. His whole body was consumed in that kiss. He was reduced to nothing, no mind games, no silly little deductions. He was simply nothing and yet everything all at once. Everything was black and white, so blaringly obvious. Sherlock didn’t know a lot about feelings, but he knew that this was something that would never make sense. Why John Watson? Why does this simple act diminish Sherlock to unmitigated nothingness. John Watson was a puzzle Sherlock would never solve.

As they stood there, chest pressing hard against chest, Sherlock groaning in pleasure as John’s body heat came into contact with his own, he started to notice things that he hadn’t previously been aware existed. John’s breaths were short and desultory, warm air surrounded Sherlock, John’s hand tightening in his hair as the kisses became more frantic. His nose was softer than Sherlock apprehended, the dimple in his cheek more prominent under Sherlock’s hand, his cheek cushioned and soft. He was able to feel every flaw, every imperfection under his fingers but the way their bodies moved as one evoked sensations from Sherlock that he had never known one was capable of feeling. He was sinking, yielding, helpless yet indisputable. A surge of warmth came over Sherlock like a flood as their tongues met, leaving him limp. Tremors found their way across his body, touching every nerve. Sherlock could feel the slight burn of the wine John had been drinking as it made its way down his throat with every push of tongue against tongue. A giddiness took ahold of Sherlock, the world was blurred. 

He’d had a taste and he realised it would never be enough. Sherlock knew what it was like to be addicted to something, the primal need that coursed through his body every moment, every second. But kissing John Watson was different. It completed him, contented him and he knew, the moment these lips broke apart, that urgent longing would return, heightened 100 times over. 

 

Sherlock could deduce a number of things, but how it felt to kiss John Watson was not one of them.

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! This is my first fan fiction submission. I am studying creative writing at University and I just want to practice writing. Any constructive criticism will be very much welcome. Please let me know if you like and if you want more of my shitty drabbles.


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